


High and Mighty

by dracoqueen22



Series: Tethers [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy-typical violence, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 00:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Dakota and Mathias have both served the goddess Ithar faithfully, until the day comes that faith is tested, and a choice must be made.





	High and Mighty

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original series based tangentially on a DnD background, which is why I've been lovingly referring to it as my DnD adjacent series. I've borrowed the structure from DnD and some of the races/classes/spells/etc, but the world itself is my own creation, as are the deities, the cities, etc.

"You didn't get the side strap again."

"Fix it for me, please?"

Dakota chuckled and stepped up behind his younger, but taller brother, grabbing the two straps of his leather breastplate and cinching them together. "Some war cleric you are, Matty. How do you expect to go into battle with half your armor loose?"

"That's what you're here for, little brother," Mathias said with a cheeky grin, showing off the dimples in his blue cheeks.

"I am your _older_ brother," Dakota grumbled and buckled the straps in place, giving them a pat. "There. Now a troll won't stick his poisoned blade into your ribs."

Mathias laughed again. "Well, he still might. It just means he'll have a harder time of it." He ruffled Dakota's hair before Dakota could duck away, setting the short strands into wild disarray. "Besides, you'll have my back, won't you?"

"I don't have time to watch out for you. I have to watch my own back!" Dakota retorted with a roll of his eyes.

They both knew better.

This was their first time going to battle together. They'd gone separately multiple times. Every battleband kept at least two clerics in the party. It was one of the laws of their people. Pure chance had Dakota and Mathias usually in separate battlebands. Or perhaps it had been Ithar’s intention, keeping two of her favored separate so as to spread her influence further. 

Mathias stepped in front of the mirror, tugging and adjusting and situating the rest of his leather armor into place. It fit snugly around the white of his robes, the intricate pale blue stitching giving him an almost ghostly look. But with the thick snow drifts, there was little better camouflage.

Dakota himself preferred chainmail hidden under his robes, and he'd taken the time to sew the mail between thick layers lined with beaver fur. For aesthetic reasons, of course. He, too, wore white and blue robes, the colors signifying their service to the Lady Ithar, the frost goddess and patron to the lost.

"Stop primping or we're going to be late." Dakota thumped Mathias across the back and stooped to gather their weapons -- a thick, heavy cudgel for Mathias and a shorter, blunt mace for himself. "And that won't impress Alessia at all, will it, brother?"

Heat darkened Mathias' blue cheeks to a lavender shade. "Hush," he hissed, and his fingers fumbled where he was redoing the ties of his robe to make them hang perfectly even. "And don't you dare embarrass me like you did last week."

"I have no idea what you mean." Dakota grinned, full of innocence, baring his tusks at his younger brother. He tugged on Mathias' long, dark braid and handed him the cudgel. "Come on. Let's go."

Mathias snatched the weapon and attached it to his belt by the strap, letting it dangle at his side. He preferred to keep his hands as free as possible, until battle was upon them. "You've got the packs?"

Dakota turned, glancing around the large space that served as their main chamber, kitchens, storage, and general area. Their beds were a rumpled mess, and a single door branched off to a washroom. There wasn't much else to their humble home. Two leather satchels sat haphazard in the worn chair by the hearth.

Dakota retrieved them, handing off one to Mathias and slinging the other over his shoulder. He gripped the handle of his mace in his free hand, giving it a few testing swings. Balance was crucial, and it felt a little off. He made a mental note to have Mathias take a look at it later. He fancied himself an amateur blacksmith. 

"All set?"

Mathias turned back toward the mirror, tucking a few stray strands of hair carefully back into place. "I hope so."

"You're gorgeous. You're charming. You're amazing, and if you're really, really lucky, you're going to impress her today," Dakota said, deadpan.

Mathias' blush deepened. He twisted away from the mirror and huffed toward the door. "Shut up. Let's go." He yanked the door open and was gone into the morning before Dakota could tease him further.

Dakota chuckled and followed him out, careful to shut and lock the door behind him. He had no worries about anyone in their clan stealing from them, but brigands occasionally ventured in from the forest to see what they could scavenge. As Dakota's and Mathias' home was on the outskirts, they were more susceptible to burglary.

Mathias waited for him at the end of the path, arms crossed, boots tapping a crunch over the frozen soil of the morning. It was late Spring, but this far north, it was hard to tell. The air remained cold and biting, with snow still lingering in huge drifts the closer they got to the mountains. Everything was bathed in a dull, formless gray, the sunrise hidden behind thick tufts of cloud.

"It's going to snow again, I think," Mathias said as he tilted his head and looked up, his weird weather sense tasting the air. Puffs of grey floated out from his lips.

"Our wood pile's getting low." Dakota crunched through the last snowfall and caught up to Mathias, the two of them turning away from their home to the further forest edge, to meet with their battleband. "Not it."

Mathias groaned. "Aw. Come on, Dak. You know I hate chopping wood." He slung an arm over Dakota's shoulders, showing off his height yet again. "Trade you. Dishes for a week?"

An appealing venture. Dakota hated doing dishes.

"Two weeks," he bartered.

Mathias unslung his arm and rubbed his face with both hands. "You're killing me here."

"Two weeks or you spend tomorrow getting covered in wood chips and sap and bugs and--"

"All right, all right." Mathias shoulder bumped him. "Two weeks of dishes and that means you chop the wood so we don't freeze our balls off."

Dakota leaned his maul against his shoulder. "Fair is fair." He dug into his pocket, pulling out a pair of gloves he’d knitted himself. These he slipped over his fingers, flexing them against the carefully sewn fur. 

Mathias chuckled and slowed his stride to match Dakota's. There was an adorable jauntiness to his pace and Dakota had to hide a grin behind his hand. This wasn't the first time Mathias had been a cleric for Alessia's battleband, but he still acted like it was a special treat. His affection for her endured, despite the fact she seemed to pay little notice to him.

Ah. Young love. Not that Dakota had any idea what that felt like.

This early, their clan was only just starting to stir. Hearths spilled smoke into the air as their owners woke, preparing for breakfast, and chickens clucked as they toddled out of their coops to snap up the feed strewn out for them. Someone had made porridge, Dakota could smell the cinnamon on the air. It made his stomach grumble.

He'd have to eat on the road. They'd gotten a late start and Mathias' primping had set them further back.

The brothers passed many, many familiar faces. Their village was small and secluded enough that no strangers lived here. It was something of a requirement from the Chief. Collier was a rarity as it was, the population composed of orc, half-orc, and human, all living in harmony. They were very wary of anyone who might come along to disturb that peace. 

They met their battleband on the edge of the forest, right where the hoof-trodden path led them deeper into the woods, churned up mud making it unpalatable. It would've been a miserable trek, were it not for the horses Captain Alessia must have demanded be made for their use.

The other five members of their battleband milled around, waiting, checking their equipment, chatting. Captain Alessia sat apart, astride her stallion, flipping through a book in her lap.

"Great, we're the last to arrive," Mathias groaned.

"Well, at least that's no different than usual." Dakota lightly punched Mathias on the shoulder.

Farras, their half-orc sorcerer, noticed them first. He grinned, tusks immaculately polished, and waved them over. "You two just won me five gold! Thank you for being predictable."

"Half of that's ours, right?" Dakota replied with a grin. He clasped hands with the sorcerer, who like most of their battleband, was taller than Dakota.

He was impossibly short for his kind. It was unfair.

"Not unless you want to consider it mine." Irena appeared on Dakota's left side, elbowing him in the ribs. "I had faith in you, Dak. You failed me."

"It was Mathias' fault, wasn't it?" Areni, Irena's twin sister, appeared on Dakota's other side, grinning over his shoulder as Mathias joined them.

"It was not," Mathias retorted. He flushed lavender all over again. He wore his emotions on his face, Mathias did. Secrecy and subtlety were out of his repertoire. 

"It most certainly was," Dakota said.

The twins twittered, their faces eerily similar and their voices a near perfect match. In fact, if they hadn't opted for opposing clothing choices and pulling their brown hair into different knot styles, Dakota wouldn't have been able to tell them apart. It didn't help that they both chose to be long-range bowwielders.

"Enough chortling," Alessia snapped as she trotted over on her horse, jerking the reins to pull it to a halt. "I want to get this dealt with and be back before sundown. Saddle up, children."

It was a testament to their respect for her, how quickly everyone rushed to obey.

Dakota nodded at Mathias and they parted, splitting the remaining two horses between them. Dakota pulled himself into the saddle of a pale grey mare, who snorted and pawed at the cold, muddy ground. As he did so, another half-orc slunk out of the woods, dressed in shades of green and brown, a bow slung over his shoulder. His skin was a gradient of bright greens, better suited to the warmer climes far, far north of Collier. 

"The way is clear, captain," he announced, his voice like a fall of gravel. He padded quietly to the side of Alessia's horse and looked up at her with pale, pale eyes. "Our quarry has not moved, and there are no traps to waylay us."

"Thank you, Nata," Alessia said.

He tipped his head in a nod and moved away as Alessia turned to face them all.

"We face three ice trolls today," she said, not that it was a new piece of information. Every member here knew what they expected to face, and none had refused the call. "They've been harrying our cattle and gatherers, and since there's no peace to be made, we must slay them where they stand. Be quick, be careful, be watchful. And follow my lead."

A chorus of various agreements rose from the gathered members. Alessia lifted her chin in acknowledgment and turned back toward the path into the forest, taking the lead. The twins fell in behind her, while Farras rode alongside Mathias behind them. Dakota pulled into third place and he twisted to glance over his shoulder as Rayna, their eighth member and lone human, pulled up beside Nata, and he swung into the saddle behind her.

They would be the rear guard.

The battleband plunged into the forest, tall evergreen trees making dark shadows in the pale gray of the morning. Thin, leafless trees swayed in a light wind, empty branches rustling and clattering together. Somewhere, a bird sang, barely audible over the sound of a line of horses moving through the muck. 

The Garda Mountains loomed over the forest, their peaks adorned with heavy snowfall. The largest of them was Ravager’s Eyrie. Rumor claimed a family of rocs had taken up residence in that high peak, and if anyone was brave enough to venture to their nest, a great treasure awaited their claim. If they could survive long enough to loot the cavern. 

Dakota was no adventurer, and he hadn’t an ounce of greed. He had no interest in exploring to discover the truth behind rumor. Mathias had once expressed interest in such a venture, but couldn’t find anyone to join him on the fool’s errand. 

As for their quarry, the trolls, they had built a campsite near the rocky base of the mountain range, using an outcropping as a windshield for their fire pit. No one knew what had brought them here or why they were so far south of their usual haunts, deep in the ravines and upper crevasses of the mountains themselves, but they wouldn't respond to reason, and they wouldn't be scared away.

That left only one course of action.

Dakota tucked himself in tighter to his robes as the village fell away behind them, and the battleband was swallowed by the forest. He touched the talisman hanging from his belt, whispering a quick prayer to safely guide their journey.

There was no response from Ithar. But then, there rarely was. She wasn't a chatty deity, and she had her favorites, Mathias among them. Dakota didn't take it personally. Mathias was impossible not to love and if a goddess could see that, all the better.

He settled as comfortably as he could in the saddle and prepared himself for a two hour ride at their current pace. The battle would be upon them soon enough.

Boredom set in all too quickly.

There wasn't much to look at and they were required to be as quiet as possible given the circumstances. No one rode beside Dakota, so he couldn't engage in soft chatter like those in front and behind. The one time he glanced at their rear guard, he quickly glanced away because Rayna and Nata were shamelessly flirting with each other. He hoped they were also keeping a decent watch in between the soft giggles and unsubtle touches.

It was a match that would surprise no one. Those two had been thick as thieves from the moment Rayna pushed Nata into a puddle, and he flung mud in her eyes, and they scrapped like a pair of children were wont to do. Dakota didn't know what truce had been called that day, when they stood in front of their teacher, shame-faced and covered in filth, but it made them best friends, something that had endured into adulthood.

The mild pace was at least somewhat steady. With nothing else to do, Dakota pulled out the blanket he'd been working on -- infant sized for a neighbor -- and started to knit. It would keep his hands warm and his mind busy at least.

"Mathias, front and center, please," Captain Alessia called back as the mountains neared and the temperature dropped further. Hardy individuals that they were for living in such an environment, they still sank deeper into the warmth of their coats. 

Dakota watched, lips curved in a grin, as his brother started and shifted around in his saddle. He sat upright, like their instructor had taken him to task for not paying attention again. Mathias had always been one to despise getting in trouble. 

"Y-yes, captain," he said, with the most adorable stutter.

Dakota swallowed a snicker.

"Tell me if you can sense any concerns other than our quarry, please," Alessia said, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the horses, but carry no further.

"Yes, captain."

Dakota buried a laugh in the multicolor rings of his scarf.

Farras dropped back to ride beside him, grin stretched wide over his tusks. "Your brother has high hopes." The deep blue of his skin looked even darker with the blush of a cold wind against his face. 

"You don't think he has a chance?"

"I think he has a better chance than anyone else." Farras snickered under his breath and scratched the side of his jaw, blunt nails scraping through the scruff of his beard. "He's certainly more charismatic than you."

"That's because he wants to be. I don't give a shit."

"A shame, that." Farras eyed him, gaze flicking up and down, the gradient blue of his skin almost making him appear frostbitten. "You could be quite the catch."

Dakota rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. I am that." He laid the sarcasm on as thick as possible. "Don't make me hurt you, Farras. I will poke an eye out." He pointed a needle at Farras for emphasis.

"Speaking of..." Farras shifted the reins to one hand and started rifling around in his side pouch with the other. He pulled out a bundle of cloth and held it toward Dakota. "You mind?"

"You carry your laundry with you to battle?" Dakota asked with a laugh. He accepted the cloth nonetheless, unrolling a well-laundered tunic, but one with a sizable rip in the seam.

Farras winked. "Only when I know I'm going to see my favorite seamster. Can you fix that for me?"

"Of course I can. It's a simple stitch. I could even show you how to do it." Dakota shrugged and shook out the tunic, peering at it to make sure nothing else needed to be mended.

"But if I did it, then it would lack your loving touch. No, no. I need your talented hands, please."

Dakota rolled up the tunic and stuck it into his bag. He narrowed his eyes at Farras. "I can't tell if you're mocking me or attempting to flatter me. And I'm honestly not sure which I'd prefer."

Farras blinked. "You really are terrible at this," he said, and Dakota didn’t know how to interpret his tone. If it was tease, if it was mockery, if it was bewilderment. 

Either way, it made a familiar embarrassment and anger surge in his chest. His fingers trembled around his needles. 

Dakota's face heated. "Because I'm not interested in it. Gods!" He shoved away his knitting supplies and picked up the reins again. Mockery, not flattery, good to know.

"Whoa. Hey." Farras leaned across the space between them, grabbing Dakota's shoulder before he could make his horse pick up the pace. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend. I was only teasing, Dakota. You want me to back off, no worries. I'll do it."

Dakota sucked in a breath and briefly closed his eyes, "It's all right," he said as Farras' hand fell away and he leaned back into space on his own saddle. "I just..." He scrubbed his forehead with a finger. "Really don't want to get into it right now. Aren't we about to fight some trolls?"

No sooner had he spoke did Captain Alessia come to a halt, her hand raised into a fist. Dakota pulled on his reins, Farras scrambling for his own, and one by one, they clustered up behind their captain.

"We tether the horses here," she said, already slipping from her horse as Mathias held the reins for her. "We go the rest on foot."

They must be close then.

Everyone dismounted, handing the reins over to Nata who secured their horses, soothing their restless stomps with quiet murmurs and strokes of their manes. 

They clustered around the captain. Alessia had removed her cape, tucking it into her saddlebag. Her long, dark hair had been coiled into a braid at the top of her head. She didn’t smile at them, but her eyes flicked over the gathered battleband with approval. 

“Dakota, Irena, you will flank from the west,” she said, and Irena chuckled as she slid her arm through Dakota’s elbow, tugging him against her side. An easy task, as she was both taller than him and stronger, a fact she took much pleasure in reminding him of over and over. 

“Looks like it’s you and me, sweetheart,” she said with an exaggerated wink. 

“Keep me alive and I’ll do the same for you,” he replied. 

“Farras, take Mathias to the east. Nata circle around to the back. Take Areni with you, she’s the stealthiest outside of you.” 

Areni smirked and planted her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I am.” She shot a triumphant look at her twin, who rolled her eyes and clutched Dakota tighter. 

“I have the cuter companion,” Irena purred. 

Dakota sighed. 

“Rayna, you’re with me. We’ll take the direct assault,” Alessia finished, quieting the twins’ hushed argument with a firm glare. “You will all wait for my signal to attack. We have the advantage in surprise. I don’t want to lose that. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

Dakota caught Mathias by the elbow before his brother could slip away with Farras. “Ithar watch over you,” he said with a squeeze to Mathias’s arm. 

Mathias grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Honestly, brother. You have nothing to worry about. I’m her favorite, remember?” He winked and drew away, joining Farras. 

Something like unease coiled in Dakota’s belly, though he couldn’t put a reason on why. He touched a hand to Ithar’s symbol, tried to feel for her warmth. She still hadn’t a word for him. 

“Come on, Dakota. I don’t want to miss the action!” Irena grabbed his free hand and yanked him into the forest, him stumbling in her wake. 

He let Irena take the lead. 

Dakota was a capable fighter, but he was a cleric. He wasn’t meant for the frontline. Irena was far more the warrior than he, so if she wanted to lead the charge, he would happily allow her to do so. 

Stealth was not Dakota’s forte, either. Trolls were relatively dumb, but still. No matter how lightly he stepped, branches crackled beneath his boots, while a few paces ahead of him, Irena didn’t make a noise. She threw exasperated looks at him over her shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” She winked. 

The sun rose higher in the sky. A thin mist curled upward from the ground. The trees grew shorter and more sparse, as the leaf-littered floor gave way to rocky soil. The weight of the mountains hanging over them became all the more oppressive. 

Ten minutes into their slow creep toward a position Dakota assumed Irena knew, she held up a hand and lowered into a crouch. Dakota knelt beside her as she pointed down a slope, through the trees. 

“There,” she murmured against his ear. “You see?” 

He followed her gesture, catching a curl of smoke from a smoldering campfire. Two large, pale bodies crouched around it. They were barely dressed, considering the cold, and wore haphazardly assembled animal furs. Their prominent, hooked noses hung over thin lips, stained red and peeled back along jagged, blood-stained teeth. They were larger than a full-grown orc, and certainly larger than Dakota. 

Dakota’s stomach flipped with disgust. 

“Where’s the third?” Dakota whispered. 

“I don’t know.” Irena crept forward. 

Dakota followed, her slower pace making it easier to step where she stepped. 

For once, he didn’t make a terrible amount of noise. 

“Can you see the captain?”

“Not yet.” 

Closer and closer, inch by inch. 

Dakota quietly wrapped his fingers around his mace, getting a good grip on it. He considered his spells and the trolls and readied a sacred flame. They were large and dumb, but surely, not dextrous enough to avoid the cantrip. 

Irena hid behind a rock outcropping and readied her bow, peering over the edge of it toward their prey. Dakota crouched beside her, back to the rock, waiting for her signal to go. 

“I see the captain,” Irena said, and her voice rang with excitement. “I can’t see Areni, but Mathias’s dumb ass head is sticking out over a boulder on the other side.” 

Dakota muffled a snort. “That sounds like him. What about the trolls?” 

“They’re still eating. No sign of the third one yet.” 

Damn. 

Dakota’s fingers sparkled. The wait was the worst part. He wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. Perhaps choosing to favor warcasting had been the wrong idea. 

Irena stiffened, her blue eyes narrowing, the tattoos around her eyes wrinkling as she focused. “Get ready.” She nocked an arrow, drawing back on the string. 

A crackling burst of sound echoed in the wood, immediately followed by a roar of pain, and the stench of singed hair. 

“Now!” Irena stood and swiveled, releasing two arrows in sharp succession. 

Dakota leapt to his feet, darting around the rock and keeping low, releasing his sacred flame at the first troll he spotted. One of Irena’s arrows shot into the distance as the troll turned at the last moment, but the other sank into its shoulder, spilling trickles of blood. 

Radiant fire sprang from Dakota’s fingertips, slamming into the troll’s midsection, spreading a curl of flame over its chest. More arrows launched out of the woods opposite them, one missing, but the other striking true as it took out an eye from the other troll. 

They both snarled, the guttural sounds echoing over the noise of battle, as another stream of fire lit the afternoon. Dakota recognized Mathias’s sacred flame as it slammed into the back of one of the trolls, sending it stumbling forward, right into Alessia’s great sword. A two-handed upswing slashed a line of blood across the troll’s chest, deep into the furred hides. 

The troll roared and lashed at her with its claws, but Alessia was far too quick, ducking out of the way just as an eldritch blast came from over her shoulder, slamming into the troll’s face. 

Another firebolt careened out of the wood – Farras keeping his distance as he poured on the magic. It slammed into one of the troll’s shoulders, and it roared as it whirled toward the source of its pain, one eye bleeding. 

Dakota readied another sacred flame. It had worked once, it should work again. The magic crackled at his fingertips, and he thrust his arm forward, catching a troll in the throat. It gurgled, the stench of sizzling flesh filling the air, and Alessia spun around, using Dakota’s attack to her advantage, plunging her sword into his belly. 

Blood spilled over the polished metal. The troll gurgled, doubling over, and Alessia kicked it off her blade, sending it dropping to its knees, clutching at its abdomen. It fumbled for a weapon with its free hand only to fall limp as its head exploded in a gout of witchfire. 

One down, one to go. 

Dakota plunged out of the wood, twigs crackling beneath him, maul at the ready and waiting for an opportunity. Arrows whistled through the air, shooting over the fallen troll’s head, sinking into the back of the remaining troll. It roared and swept out with its club, catching Alessia in the shoulder. She shouted as she tumbled to the side, metal denting from the impact, and Mathias burst out, a guiding bolt streaking from his fingertips. 

It slammed into the troll’s chest, knocking it several steps back in a stagger, setting it aglow with radiant light. It growled, swung wildly, aiming for the nearest target. Alessia, still reeling from the one blow, didn’t look up in time, and the club smacked against the side of her head, sending her spinning. 

Damn it!

Dakota tossed his maul aside and ran to Alessia, ducking under a wild swing as Farras sent three beams of a scorching ray, both impacting with a sizzling burst of fire that filled the air with the stench of cooked flesh. Alessia crumpled, and Dakota reached out, grabbing her shoulder with one hand and his symbol with the other, whispering a quick prayer. 

Her wound closed, though blood caked her forehead. She’d have a hell of a bruise and a headache, but she’d live. 

The troll roared, and the ground shook, and Dakota’s eyes widened as it came staggering his direction, arrows sticking out of its gut like a porcupine. The club swung blindly, and there was no time to move, so Dakota curled over Alessia and braced himself for the pain. 

A burst of sunlight brightened the area with blinding luminosity. The troll staggered in the wake of it, hand rising to shield his eyes. 

Dakota blinked when the pain didn’t come. He peered through the brightness, saw Mathias smirking, triumphant. Then two arrows flew through the air, piercing the side of the troll’s neck. It gurgled, blood bubbling up out of its mouth. It toppled like a house of cards, hitting the ground with a crunch of ice and bone. 

“That was surprisingly easy,” Mathias said as he jogged the rest of the way into the clearing, looking inordinately pleased with himself. He paused by the rock the trolls had been using as a windbreak, leaning against it in a far from casual pose. 

Farras followed him out, brushing past Mathias to offer a hand to the captain, helping pull her to her feet. She was bruised and dented, but then, Alessia preferred it that way. She never led from the rear, only from the frontline. 

Dakota was left to his own devices. Typical. 

He stood and brushed the dirt and dead leaves from his robes. “There is something to be said about the element of surprise.” He looked up at the lingering flickers of brightness. “I take it that was your doing?” He pointed upward. 

“What would you do without me to save your ass?” Mathias asked. 

“Die, I suppose.” Dakota sighed at the state of his robes, muddy and stained as they were. 

Alessia shook off Farras’ hand and snatched her sword from the ground. “If you two are through bantering, we need to finish the job. There are supposed to be three.” She spun on a heel, shouting toward the rocks beyond the camp. “Nata! Find me a troll!” 

Dakota chuckled and brushed another glob of mud from his robes. What was one more troll when they’d so quickly dispatched two? 

He looked at Mathis, sure to find his brother bragging more. That was when he spied it, the large shadow in the trees behind Mathias, crunching noisily over leaves and twigs, but inaudible over the shouting of the battleband, and the good-natured teasing. 

Dakota’s eyes widened, his heart crawling into his throat. 

“Mathias! Behind you!” 

Too late. Too slow. Too fucking late. 

A massive club, studded with spikes, slammed into his brother’s right shoulder and side with a sickening crunch of what had to be bone. Mathias’s eyes went wide, his face pale, as he went flying like a rag doll, smacking into the rocky windbreak with a sound that echoed in Dakota’s ears. Blood spurted from his lips, and he fell to the ground like a wet sack, crumpling there at the base of the outcropping. 

“Kill it!” Alessia shouted. 

Dakota’s fingers crackled as a guiding bolt surged from his hand, radiant lightning crackling through the air, slamming into the troll’s right knee. It roared but didn’t falter as it bounded forward, club waving in wide arcs. It was bigger than the others, taller by several heads and half again as broad. 

Dakota ducked under a swing and scrambled forward, as Alessia charged in front of him, blocking another wild blow. 

“Go. Get Mathias,” she hissed. 

Dakota nodded and scuttled around Farras as the sorcerer spilled a ray of rainbow light toward the troll, the chromatic orb slicing against its back in a plume of magic. Arrows whistled through the air, followed immediately by the dull thud of daggers into thick, troll flesh. 

He only tangentially heard it, his gaze locked on Mathias alone. His brother lay unmoving, eyes closed, and blood formed a bright blossom on his pale robes. 

Dakota slid to his knees beside Mathias, heart pounding so fierce it thudded in his ears. Cure magic hummed in his blood, waiting to be unleashed, but the magic spilled over Mathias rather than soaking into his body. Ineffective. Mathias’ chest wasn’t rising or falling. No gray puffs of air escaped his lips or nose. 

“Oh, no,” Dakota breathed, tugging off his gloves with his teeth, grabbing his brother’s wrist with one hand, the other feeling for his brother’s neck, seeking a pulse. 

He found none. 

Oh, fuck. 

Dakota frantically grabbed his pouch of components, dumping it onto the ground. He rifled through it, looking for the gems he’d need. His fingers skittered over pale rubies and charcoal bits and feather fluff. 

He had no diamonds. He had prepared the revivification spell, but he had not thought to bring diamonds. He was running out of time. 

Dakota snatched Mathias’ component pouch and dumped it, scattering components in all directions. At the back of his head, a number counted down, down, and his heart thudded so loud, he couldn’t hear the battle behind him over his own pulse. 

Numb fingers fumbled over a smooth gem. Dakota pounced on it, brushing away powdered iron. Diamond gleamed back up at him. 

Thank the gods. 

Dakota pressed the diamond to Mathias’ chest, resting Mathias’ left hand over it, keeping it across his heart. He held Mathias’ hand while reaching for Ithar’s symbol, clutching it tightly in his fist. He bowed his head low enough to press his forehead to Mathias’, eyes squeezed shut, desperation choking him. 

_Please_, he begged. _He’s all I have._

His fingers shook as he called upon the divine magic, pouring all that he had into it, into Mathias’ hand, the diamond, and into his body beneath. 

_You are my lady, you are my only, you are the one to whom I give my faith. Bring him back to me, my goddess. It’s not his time. He has so much left to do. _

_It’s not his time, Lady Ithar._

The symbol warmed from his body heat. 

Dakota ground his teeth, gripped Mathias’ hand tighter, felt the edges of the holy symbol bite into his skin. He called and he called and he called. 

Ithar didn’t answer. 

He reached for her, out there in an ethereal plane where all the clerics and paladins sought to make contact with their gods. This was a simple spell, a simple request. He’d asked for her guidance before in this manner and received it. Farras would not be alive today if not for him. Nata’s older sister would have fallen in battle, if not for Mathias. 

_Please, my lady._

He poured his will into the casting, his strength, felt the sob claw into his throat, like a lump he couldn’t remove. 

_Take me instead._

A moment. The warmth lingered, but where it should have built into a cool wind, into a soothing flow of Ithar’s divine presence, there was nothing. There was silence. 

No. 

Dakota lifted his head and hand, peeling Mathias’ fingers away from the diamond. It was dark and cloudy, two heavy cracks running through it. The spell had been cast, the material expended. 

Ithar had not heeded his call. 

Dakota stared at the diamond, a chill colder than winter’s snow cascading through his being. He picked it up, turned it over and over in his hands, but it slowly crumpled to dust, spilling like fine grains of sand on Mathias’ chest. 

His brother still didn’t move. He had no pulse. He had no breath in his body. He lay in a puddle of blood, his robes stained red and pink. 

Footsteps behind him, boots scrunching over frozen ground, as the troll screeched in its final death throes. Shouting and conversation rose from behind him. Relief and a quiet murmur of celebration. 

Dakota stared at Mathias. 

Ithar had not answered him. Her symbol lay chill and lifeless in his hand, as Mathias lay chill and lifeless beneath his other. Blood stained Mathias’ temple, where he’d struck the rock after the troll’s overpowered blow. 

“Dakota! Is he--” Areni’s horrified gasp cut off her question. She dropped down beside him, skittering in the cold ground. “What’s wrong? Revive him!” 

“I tried.” He had to speak past the lump in his throat, the burning in his eyes. “Ithar did not listen.” 

“What?” Areni stared at him, her eyes wide. “I don’t understand. I don’t--”

“She ignored my call!” Dakota snarled, twisting away from the gentle hand Areni tried to offer him. He didn’t want her touch. “She won’t revive him. She’s taken him into her embrace, and she won’t give him back.” 

Areni paled. A splash of troll blood stained her cheek, incongruous to the cheerful markings she and Irena liked to decorate themselves with. Feathers fluttered in her braids, dancing in the chill breeze. Sparrow and cardinal, the bright red of the latter like a reminder. 

Cardinals brought messages from the departed. They were final goodbyes. They were the dead watching over the living. 

It was too soon. 

More footsteps. Dakota acknowledged them distantly, like one might hear the background chatter of a forest, but not pay it much mind. He felt numb. Empty. 

He knelt next to his brother, sobs caught in his throat. He brushed hair out of Mathias’ face. It had fallen free of his carefully ordered twists. 

“She took him,” Dakota said, and he didn’t recognize his own voice, how grating and angry and confused he sounded. “She won’t give him back.” 

Mathias grew colder, on the muddy, ice-covered ground. It seeped what little warmth his body had left. He wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t breathe. His heart wouldn’t beat. Because Ithar had taken him, and Dakota’s service was not enough to earn him back. 

“Try again,” Areni urged as her sister dropped down beside her, hands covering her mouth, eyes welling with tears. 

“I can’t,” Dakota hissed, his fingers fisting Mathias’ robes, as if he could squeeze the blood out of them and squeeze the life back into his brother’s body. “She’s already taken him.” He shook his head, heart squeezing and squeezing into a tight ball. 

“But there are rituals, aren’t there?” Irena asked as she curved an arm over her sister’s shoulder, pulling her into an embrace. 

Dakota lowered his head. His eyes burned and when he blinked, they spilled tears, trickling down his face, turning cold in the air. 

“Aren’t there?” Irena repeated. 

“Irena, hush.” Captain Alessia’s voice cut through with a quiet command and there was something comforting about it. “You and Areni are to assist the others with searching and disposing of the troll’s bodies and campfires.” 

“But--”

“Now, children.” 

They obeyed. Clothing and armor rustled as they stood up and left. Silence fell again, save for the low murmur of conversation in the background, the crackle of a fire, the rattle and clunk of the others rifling through the troll’s meager belongings. 

Armor rattled as Alessia lowered herself into a crouch in Dakota’s peripheral vision. He lifted his head, watching her, and for the first time, saw her careful mask of professionalism slip. Her dark eyes softened, and she dropped to one knee, a gloved hand reaching out to lay over Mathias’. 

“I am sorry, Dakota,” she murmured. “Some things are not for us to decide, but for the gods.” 

“That’s bullshit,” he said, alarming himself with how fierce his voice emerged, how disrespectful. “Mathias was the best of all of us. He’s her favorite.” 

“Perhaps that is why she holds him.” 

Dakota’s hands clenched into fists over his knees. “She said nothing. She ignored me completely. As if I didn’t matter.” 

“The gods are not obligated to heed our call.” 

Dakota lifted his head, looked at his captain, and he supposed she was trying to sound comforting, but it didn’t work. Not with his brother lying cold and dead in front of him, and Dakota helpless to do anything about it. 

“Should that make me feel better?” he asked, and the anger built in his belly like the cold spread of frost before it hardened to ice. “The only person I have is taken from me because the goddess I serve can’t be bothered to so much as acknowledge I needed her. But it’s all right. Because I am a mortal, and it is the way of things.” 

Apology spilled across Alessia’s face. “I apologize.” She turned to face him, lifting her hand away from Mathias’ body. “I understand this is no comfort to you.” Sorrow overtook her expression. “Mathias was a great man. He shall be dearly missed. Though I’m sure that is no comfort either.” 

“It’s not,” Dakota choked out, and the tears spilled freely, his hands clenched so tightly that they ached. 

Alessia gripped his shoulder, giving it a warm squeeze. “We will help you get your brother home, Dakota. All of Collier will mourn his loss.” 

It was no consolation either. 

Alessia rose and left him, kneeling on the cold, hard ground next to his brother. 

Dakota bowed his head, hands in his lap. Usually, he’d reach for his symbol at a time like this, drawing comfort in prayer to Ithar. The thought of speaking to his goddess, at the moment, made his mouth fill with ash. 

He knelt there until the work was done, the trolls burned, their belongings destroyed and the campfire left to cinders. 

Farras joined Dakota, holding a rolled up piece of fabric in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “May I?” He held out the fabric. 

Dakota looked at him dully. 

“It’s to wrap him,” Farras said, his tone gently. One hand landed on Dakota’s shoulder, warm where he felt so cold inside, like everything had turned to ice and crystal. “So we can take him home.” 

“Fine,” Dakota rasped. 

“I’ll treat him with respect,” Farras promised. 

Dakota watched, unable to muster any kind of emotion. Farras was indeed respectful, draping the length of his cloak over Mathias and wrapping him gently in it, tucking his arms over his chest, covering his still, lifeless expression. 

Captain Alessia stepped up then, assisting Farras with the task. Dakota knew he should’ve offered, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He’d become a statue, rooted in place, because if he didn’t move, it wasn’t real, it hadn’t happened. It was a terrible, horrible nightmare. 

Together, Alessia and Farras lifted Mathias, carrying him to one of the horses Nata must have retrieved for them. Dakota watched them, head spinning with dizziness, unable to make himself stand. 

Areni pulled him to his feet. She dragged him over to a horse and pushed him toward the saddle until he climbed into it. 

Dakota blinked, and they were moving. Farras had the reins of Mathias’ horse. Dakota rode between the twins, one of them holding the reins for his horse, as they talked over him in low murmurs. Their words passed through his ears, and he registered none of them. 

He blinked again, listing in the saddle, and they were riding back into Collier, two of the patrolling guards walking out to greet them. The smiles fell from their faces as they caught sight of what rode behind Alessia, their gazes running a count and falling upon Dakota last. 

Sympathy darkened their orcish eyes. Dakota would suffer much sympathy soon, he knew. Sympathy meant nothing to him in the wake of Ithar’s silence and disregard. Sympathy was an empty, useless emotion. 

He was alone. His brother had been taken from him, and his goddess hadn’t seen fit to comfort or intervene. She’d given him silence. 

“Dakota.” Irena rode closer to him, reaching out, resting her hand on his arm. “Where would you like us to take him?”

Dakota looked down at her hand like it was a foreign object. “The temple,” he said, and there was a dull, empty quality to his voice. “He’ll be interred in the arms of the goddess he served.” 

“Yes, of course. I--”

He lifted her hand from his arm, and she retracted it. Her expression flickered with disappointment, and the words died on her lips. 

“I’ll meet you there,” Dakota said as he dismounted, snatching his bag from the horse’s saddle, and throwing a strap over his shoulder with little gentleness. “Tomorrow. Dawn, I think.”

“I’ll come with you.” Irena slipped from the saddle, moving around the horse to join him, but he twisted out of her hand, away from the comfort of her touch. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.” 

Dakota’s mouth twisted before he could stop himself. “Be sure to tell Ithar that when you take her my brother’s corpse.” 

Irena’s eyes widened. “Dakota, I really don’t think--”

He cut her off with a shake of his head. Areni must have noticed their conversation, for she stepped up beside her sister, casting curious and worried glances his direction. 

“Leave me be,” Dakota said, though it emerged more as a hiss. “I want no comfort and no sympathy. Tend to Mathias. That’s what you can do for me right now.” 

He spun on a heel, leaving them no opportunity to argue otherwise. Or if they did, he chose to ignore it. 

He plunged into the late afternoon, heading straight for the home he shared with his brother, leaving his battleband behind. Let them claim their victory and their glory. He wanted none of it. 

Anger rattled his footsteps. It blazed through his body like a bonfire. But as he approached the small house he called home, reluctance dogged him. He slowed until he stopped, lingering at the front door, fiddling with the key in his pocket. 

Dakota pulled in a long, heavy breath. It shook in his lungs, the heat building at the back of his eyes. He forced the key into the lock, turned it, heard the click as it disengaged, and pushed the door open. He stepped into the dim central room, the gray skies not offering much light through the cracked shutters. 

Beds were still in disarray. Evidence of their hastily packed bags lay strewn across the mattresses, the floor, the dining table. Mathias’ nightclothes were still crumpled at the end of his bed. The scones they’d forgotten to grab sat on the dining table, butter cooled into a congealed mass on top. 

Dakota dropped his bag by the door, the dull thunk of it echoing in the emptiness of the home. He had been here without Mathias countless times before. When Mathias had been out on assignments, when he’d stayed with a friend, when he’d taken the caravan to Yaluta to exchange goods. 

It would be a lie to say he couldn’t remember a time he didn’t have his brother beside him. But the house had never felt as empty as it did in this moment. Mathias lingered in every nook and cranny, from his dirty laundry to his dirty dishes to the ridiculous amount of supplies he had around the washbasin, the mirror streaked from the grease he put in his hair to keep it soft and shiny. The scent of his soap lingered, scented because Mathias bought the essence-infused soaps from the general store. 

Dakota caught his own reflection in the smeared mirror. He was pale. Blood dotted his robes, staining the pure white and blue. Dirt smeared over his face, his hands. He didn’t recognize the orc in the mirror. 

Ithar’s symbol glinted at him, catching a ray of sunlight. 

He reached down, tore it free from the ties on his belt. It was as cold in his grasp now as it had been when he begged her to give his brother back. 

Dakota’s tusks bit into his lip. He tasted blood. His hand shook. He threw the symbol behind him, heard it clatter against the floor. His robes felt heavy and itchy, like they left a rash across his skin. He tore those off as well, until he was left in nothing but his smallclothes, skin goosepimpling from the lingering chill. 

He dug through the trunk at the end of his bed, tossing aside carefully folded robes for the regular wear he had beneath. Dark brown tunic, black trousers, black cloak and a hood. For the times when he’d taken an assignment out of Collier and needed a less flashy approach. He’d stitched these himself. Mathias had a matching set. 

Dakota pulled them on. They felt stiff and unyielding. They smelled of must. He hadn’t worn them since last spring. He had only the one set. 

No. 

With Mathias gone, he had two. 

Dakota swallowed thickly. He stared at his brother’s trunk, breath shallow, hands forming fists again. Mathias had taken the time to etch Ithar’s symbol in the dark wood. He’d carefully painted runes across the surface as well, non-magical as a matter of course, but they were some of his favorite sayings. He’d always loved poetry. 

No. 

He couldn’t do this. 

He couldn’t stay here and pretend that life went on, his world hadn’t changed, he had reason to linger. Mathias was his family. He was all Dakota had. Without him, Collier meant nothing. This house meant nothing. 

It was an empty shell. 

Just like Dakota.

~

The next day dawned, bright and colorful, warmer than the one previous, with birds atwitter in the trees. It was the kind of morning Mathias would have loved. He’d have woken disgustingly perky and bothered Dakota until he managed to drag Dakota out of bed. This was, of course, after Mathias had gone on his morning run and wiped the sweat from his brow.

If he was feeling generous, Mathias made breakfast or swung by Adelaide’s bakery for fresh pastries. Dakota would wake to the sound of his brother humming as he set the table for two, coffee and pastries, his hair pulled up into a messy bun. 

Dakota used to tease him about making the perfect househusband someday. Mathias had only looked back at him, sparkle in his eyes, and said ‘if only’. 

That day would never come now. 

Dakota stood off to the side as friends, neighbors, acquaintances, battlebanders, all filed into the small nave of Ithar’s temple. Only twenty could comfortably fit, but they squeezed in nonetheless, encircling Mathias’ shrouded body. 

Dakota owed someone his thanks, the twins perhaps, for taking care of Mathias. For cleansing his body, draping it in perfumed strips of cloth, and wrapping it for internment. He would be inhumed in the crypt below the temple, like all of Ithar’s chosen before him. He would be laid to rest beside their parents, as a matter of fact. 

He would not be alone. It was some consolation to Dakota, however small. 

The clocktower rang, spilling its song over all of Collier. It was a relatively tiny thing, a gift from a passing tinkerer, but it had functioned beautifully from the moment it was installed, and all of Collier relied on its timekeeping. It pealed on the hour, and they’d begun to shape their lives by the song it gave. 

This morning, it didn’t sing to Dakota, it sounded ominous. Like the final toll of a bell. 

He pushed off the wall, moving into the crowd. He passed Farras, who laid a hand on his shoulder. Dakota paused to accept the warlock’s nod. Farras looked as if he wanted to say something, but Dakota shook his head. Words meant nothing to him right now. 

He dug into his pocket, pulling out a folded, neatly stitched tunic. He pressed it into Farras’ hand without meeting the half-orc’s eyes. He moved on before Farras could speak, the lingering heat of Farras’ touch a comfort he couldn’t accept. 

He kept going until he stood in the center, by his brother’s body. The cloths were shades of cream and white. Bows had been delicately tied in ribbons to match Ithar’s symbol. 

Dakota resisted the urge to tear them off. Mathias’ faith remained his own. 

A few scattered murmurs rippled through the crowd. They must have noticed the change in his attire. 

Dakota knelt beside Mathias, on one knee. He rested a hand on Mathias’ chest, aching at the stiff cold beneath his fingers. A fire had been lit in the hearth, and it crackled merrily, but there was nothing strong enough to restore heat to the dead. 

He closed his eyes. He bowed his head. There was once a time he would have reached outside of himself for comfort. 

That time was past. 

Silence surrounded him. Save for the noise of shuffling feet, a few coughs, the intermittent breaths of those gathered to mourn Mathias. 

“I am sorry,” Dakota murmured, as quiet as he could. 

He reached into his pocket with his free hand and produced Ithar’s symbol, the one he’d never removed from his belt from the moment she accepted his service to him, and she breathed frost upon the medallion to show her approval. He turned the bit of metal in his fingers, over and over. 

The decision had been made. 

Dakota set the medallion on top of Mathias’ body. He rose, feeling as though he left his heart behind, there in the tiny rectangular box which would be Mathias’ home when he was interred. 

“I’m sure you’re all confused,” he said, without looking up and meeting anyone’s eyes. He stared at Mathias’ body instead. 

It gave him all the resolve he needed. 

“I thank you for coming to say goodbye to him. Mathias would have been delighted to know he had so many friends. But then, of course he did. He was too easy to love.” 

Dakota’s eyes burned. He refused to blink until they dried and the tears faded. He’d cried enough. He drew in a breath, and it shuddered through his lungs. 

“As good of a friend as he was, he was a twice better brother. Far more than I could have been for him. He loved Ithar, he served her faithfully, and maybe that’s why she kept him. Maybe the gods are as selfish as we mortals.” 

Blasphemy, he knew. 

His free hands pulled into fists, and he forced them to flatten again. He kept his shoulders loose, no matter how much they wanted to draw toward his ears. 

“I love my brother,” Dakota continued, seeing without seeing, the white-draped body blurring in front of his eyes. “I will always love my brother. And I am sorry to shame myself today, in front of him, but it must be done. Because I can’t--” 

He broke off, swallowed over a lump in his throat, viciously consumed the sob that wanted to build. No more tears he told himself this morning as he gathered the last of what he’d need and confirmed his decision all over again. 

“I will not serve something as selfish as I am,” Dakota said. “And I cannot fathom a future here, in this town, without Mathias in it. There’s nothing for me here, and so, nothing I will be.” 

Murmurs and whispers rose around him, but they were as clear as a rush of wind. They passed in one ear and out the other. No one could convince him. 

“I’m leaving,” Dakota said, and only then did he lift his chin, seeing without seeing, the blurred familiar faces of the village around him. “And I won’t return.” 

He spun and pushed through the crowd. They parted for him as if he were diseased, drawing away, for fear of touching him, fear of catching his blasphemy perhaps. He’d all but spat on the face of their patron goddess, no wonder they were afraid. 

He’d left a travel bag by the door. No one had noticed it. It sat untouched, just visible behind a pair of legs, which moved aside as he leaned down to pick it up. He slung the strap over his shoulder and turned toward the door, fully expecting the crowd to part. 

Areni and Irena stood in front of him. They weren’t moving. They wore matching expressions of sorrow and sympathy, and they didn’t flinch when he approached. 

“Dakota--” 

He shook his head, cutting off Irena’s barely audible whisper. 

“I have to leave,” he said. “I can’t stay.” 

Can’t. Won’t. They were semantics. Both were true. 

Areni gnawed on her bottom lip, her face paint smudged, the lines of kohl around her eyes smeared as if she’d been weeping. “This is your home.” 

“Not anymore.” He adjusted the strap, the weight of his supplies, his weapons, the only belongings he cared to keep, weighing him down. 

“What are you doing to do? Where are you doing to go?” Irena shook her head, beads clacking as they danced in her hair. “The world is not a safe place for an orc, Dakota. Most will try to kill you on sight.” 

He cycled through a variety of replies, unable to lie, but far more unwilling to speak the truth. “I’ll just have to see how lucky I am then.” He forced a smile to his lips, knew it was unconvincing. “Could I beg of you a favor?” 

“Of course.” Irena surged forward, snagging his free hand, squeezing it between hers. 

He looked down at her hand, wishing he could feel the comfort of it, but there was nothing within him that wasn’t empty or burning with rage. “Look after them for me,” he asked. “I am a worthless excuse for a Sorrel, but their crypts deserve attention.” 

Areni opened her mouth as though she wanted to argue, a variety of emotions flickering across her face, but it was Irena who spoke, “Yes, Dakota. It will be our honor.” 

“Whatever you need,” Areni managed, her words sounding strangled, her green eyes shimmering. 

“Thank you.” 

Dakota eased his hand free of Irena’s hold and stepped forward, hoping they’d move aside, and when they did, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

He exited the temple into a morning still as cool and bright and cheerful as it had been when he woke. Logically, the day was no different, but it still felt heavy and baleful. 

Dakota did not look back as he took the main road out of town. Collier had no fences or gates. They relied on the natural surroundings and their isolation for protection. The dense forest was no easy path to traverse, but it would not be the first time Dakota had taken it. 

It would, however, be the last.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly welcomed, appreciated, and encouraged. It's been awhile since I felt inspired enough to write original fiction, so I'd love some constructive feedback. :)


End file.
